Chapter 19
Holland
“Man, have you even packed anything yet?”
Logan asks as he stands against my wall, looking around my mess of a room. We leave for the wedding tomorrow, and I in fact have not even begun to pack.
I know, I should have probably started like, last week. I’ve been busy with practice and classes and just not wanting to do it.
I nod as I pull open my suitcase.
“Yeah, I’ve started,”
I lie. Logan laughs sarcastically.
“You haven’t, have you?”
I scoff.
“Ye of little faith, my man. Of course I’ve started packing, we leave tomorrow.”
Logan pushes off the wall, giving me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a thing I’m saying. Smart man.
“Bullshit. Your suitcase is empty,”
he motions toward the empty suitcase on my bed. I look down, trying to think of something else to say to save my ass.
“Maybe I already packed a bag, did you ever think of that?”
I question. Logan raises an eyebrow, not looking convinced.
“Well, have you?”
I nod. Logan takes a step toward me.
“Okay, let’s see it then.”
Fuck.
“Okay fine, I haven’t started packing. There, you happy?”
I ask, throwing my arms in the air.
“Jesus, what’s with the third degree?”
“I just asked if you’d started to pack since you know, we leave first thing tomorrow morning to get on a plane to Italy for my brother, your best friend’s, wedding.”
“Well, I’ve been kind of busy, man. I’ll get it done,”
I shrug, turning back to the empty suitcase in front of me. I fucking hate packing, and I severely hate traveling.
Flying scares the living shit out of me. The truth is, I’ve been putting off packing for a while now because I’m scared shitless to get on this damn flight tomorrow.
No one knows that I’m terrified of flying except Ellie and Mason. We went on a trip to Disney World when we were kids, and I cried the entire way to Florida. Every time the plane would jerk, I’d cry harder, gripping onto my mom’s arm for dear life.
Ellie made fun of me for months, and I haven’t flown since. That was when we were like, twelve. I have been petrified to fly ever since. I really didn’t want anyone to know that.
Logan’s right, this is my best friend’s wedding. When Ryker told me he’d be getting married in Italy, I thought he was joking. Well, no such luck. He was serious as can be, and now I have to fly to fucking Italy.
Ellie is excited to go to another country and watch her best friend get married. Logan and Mason seem to be totally fine with the idea of getting on a metal death trap. Lainey hasn’t mentioned being frightened or nervous about the flight.
Me? I’m already thinking of everything that can go wrong. What if the airline loses my luggage? What if I miss the flight while I’m taking a piss? What if the flight gets cancelled and I miss the damn wedding? What if the fucking plane goes down? Fuck.
My palms feel sweaty, and I can feel my breathing accelerating but I try my best to hold it together since Logan is still all up in my space.
Growling, I walk to my closet and pull some shirts off the hangers, tossing them haphazardly into the open suitcase on my bed.
I can feel Logan’s intense gaze on me as I rummage through my dresser to pull out a few pairs of pants, briefs, socks, and a few pairs of pajamas. Lastly, I throw a couple pairs of shoes in and call it a day.
Cramming them all into the suitcase, it struggles a bit to zipper, but I eventually get it to stick.
“You good, man?”
Logan asks, a hint of concern lacing his voice.
“Great,”
I bite back.
“Can you fuck off now?”
Instead of leaving the room, Logan takes a step closer to me, causing my fists to clench at my sides. If he doesn’t leave now, I might hit him.
It’ll really suck when the best man shows up to the wedding with a huge black eye, but if he doesn’t stop pushing, that’s what’s going to happen.
I’m already anxious, and I hate being anxious. I’m normally cool and collected. Even when all the shit went down with my father, I stayed rational. Right now, my skin is crawling, and I feel like I want to scream.
“What is your problem, Monroe?”
Logan spits, clearly frustrated at my outburst. I don’t blame him. I’m being a dick, right now I can’t control it.
“Woah, what’s going on, Shitheads? Familial dispute?”
Mason asks, letting himself into my room that already feels way too cramped. Logan turns to my cousin who looks more entertained than he should.
“Your boy here’s being an asshole,”
he explains, as if it isn’t his fault that I’m being like this.
In all fairness, he probably doesn’t even realize that he’s the one that set me off.
Mason looks between me and Logan, then to the bed where my suitcase sits. Realization seems to hit him before he looks back to Logan who looks lost now.
“You finally got him to pack?”
he asks Logan. Logan shrugs.
“I guess, but he turned into a dick, and I’m trying to figure out why.”
Mason moves beside me, his hands landing on my shoulders and squeezing as if I’m about to enter a boxing ring.
“Well, that would be because my dear cousin here is-”
I cut him off before he can finish.
“Fuck off, Mason,”
I snap, shrugging his hands off of my shoulders. Instead of backing off, Mason stays where he is, chuckling to himself.
“What?”
Logan asks. Mason opens his mouth to finish his statement. I shoot him the strongest death glare I can. His smile just grows.
“Keep your mouth shut,”
I warn. Mason ignores the threat in my voice and continues.
“He’s afraid of flying.”
I’m going to kill him. I know a shit ton of people are afraid of flying. That doesn’t mean I wanted it advertised that I’m a bitch about it.
I’m supposed to be this tough, rugby playing asshole that has no fear, and here I am, terrified of getting on a damn airplane. Pathetic.
Logan looks from Mason to me, confusion laced in his expression.
“That’s why you weren’t packed? Did you think if you didn’t pack, you wouldn’t have to get on the flight tomorrow?”
he inquires. I don’t know what I was thinking, honestly. I never put myself in these situations.
I don’t travel, and when I do, I do it by roadway. Flying is never my first choice. Unfortunately, there’s no other way to get to Italy by tomorrow morning. So plane it is.
I shrug. Logan chuckles, and I think he’s going to give me shit about being a little bitch, but he doesn’t.
“Tons of people are afraid to fly, Monroe. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s pretty normal,”
he assures me, patting my shoulder. I let out a breath and nod.
“I know, I just don’t need it broadcasted all over the place. I’d like to keep it between us three, got it?”
I say in a slightly authoritative tone as I look between the guys. They both nod in understanding. Mason gives me one of his ‘I’m going to do something stupid’ grins on his face.
“I’m serious, Mase. This doesn’t leave this room.”
Mason holds his hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay. I won’t tell anyone else,”
he agrees as he walks toward my door.
“I won’t need to. Everyone will already be able to tell by the way you cry like a little bitch when we get on.”
Mason and Logan laugh at Mason’s comment. I grab the closest thing to me, which happens to be a shoe I was going to pack sitting on my bed and chuck it at him.
“Fuck you, dude. Both of you get out of my fucking room.”
The two of them laugh hysterically as they exit my room, and I want to do a lot more than just throw a shoe. Instead, I slam the door shut and throw myself onto my bed. Throwing my arm over my eyes, I let out a long breath.
Fuck them. Fuck this trip. Fuck Italy. And fuck flying.